The Mother Who Always Came Between Us
An hour later, the room had settled into an exhausted quiet.
Clara slept peacefully in the bassinet beside my bed while rain continued tapping against the hospital windows overlooking downtown Providence.
The lights had dimmed.
Megan stepped out briefly to finish paperwork.
And Mason still hadn’t left.
He stood near the window, hands in his pockets, staring silently into the storm.
Fatigue weighed heavily on me.
“So,” I said hoarsely, “does your new girlfriend know you suddenly have a daughter?”
Mason turned immediately.
“Natalie isn’t my girlfriend.”
“Sure.”
“I’m serious.”
I folded my arms weakly across the blanket.
“You two looked pretty comfortable.”
His jaw tightened.
“People assume things.”
“And are they wrong?”
The pause before he answered told me everything.
Something sharp twisted in my chest, and I hated that I still reacted to him like this.
“We were already separated,” he said quietly. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”
A tired laugh slipped out.
“I didn’t.”
His eyes lifted carefully.
“Didn’t?”
That one word broke something open.
Because exhaustion strips everything away, and suddenly every feeling I had buried for months rose to the surface.
“I hated feeling like I was competing with your mother,” I admitted softly. “Every holiday, every argument, every decision revolved around keeping her happy while I made myself smaller and smaller.”
Mason lowered his gaze.
Because he knew it was true.
“She criticized me for wanting space after we lost the pregnancy,” I continued.
Pain crossed his face immediately.
We had never really recovered from that.
Maybe we never could.
“I know,” he said quietly.
I shook my head.
“No. You understand now. Back then, you kept explaining her behavior instead of protecting me from it.”
Silence stretched between us.
Finally, Mason closed his eyes briefly.
“I failed you.”
Simple.
No excuses.
No defensiveness.
And somehow that honesty hurt more than denial ever could.
Because I had waited years to hear it.
“Yes,” I whispered. “You did.”
He nodded once, then looked toward Clara sleeping nearby.
“And now I almost missed her entire life too.”
For a brief second, guilt flickered inside me.
I crushed it.
“You walked away first.”
Mason met my eyes.
Completely honest.
Completely broken.
“I never stopped loving you.”
The words hit harder than any contraction.
Sudden.
Dangerous.
Terrifying.
Because somewhere beneath all the anger, a part of me still loved him too.
A soft knock broke the silence.
Megan stepped back inside holding paperwork, her expression tense.
“Dr. Avery,” she said carefully, “someone’s asking for you downstairs.”
Mason frowned.
“Who?”
Megan hesitated.
“Your mother.”
Every bit of warmth drained from my body.
Mason looked stunned.
“How does she even know I’m here?”
Megan shifted uncomfortably.
“Dr. Mercer called her.”
Of course she did.
Perfect.
Even now, his mother still managed to appear before anything could settle.
Mason muttered under his breath as he moved toward the door.
“She’s not coming upstairs tonight.”
Megan hesitated again.
My stomach tightened.
“There’s another issue,” she said cautiously.
Mason turned back.
“What issue?”
Megan looked at me before answering.
“She’s telling people the baby might not be yours.”
The words exploded through the room.
For a long, heavy moment, no one moved.
Then Mason slowly turned toward me.
And something in his expression changed.
Not heartbreak.
Not confusion.
Something colder.
Sharper.
Because for the first time in our entire relationship, Mason Avery looked ready to stop standing in the middle.
And this time—
He might finally choose me.
